A cellar full of glass boxes, trussed up boys and the sound of anothers footsteps.
Michael and the others really have no idea what is in store for them once they are brought to their new home, but it certainly wasn't what they had expected.
BoyxBoy. Might get graphic.

A cellar full of glass boxes, trussed up boys and the sound of anothers footsteps.
Michael and the others really have no idea what is in store for them once they are brought to their new home, but it certainly wasn't what they had expected.

A cellar full of glass boxes, trussed up boys and the sound of anothers footsteps.<br />
Michael and the others really have no idea what is in store for them once they are brought to their new home, but it certainly wasn't what they had expected.<br />
<br />
BoyxBoy. Might get graphic.

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: January 14, 2016

Reads: 2808

Comments: 1

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Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: January 14, 2016

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Lights flickered on in the background: somewhere between day and night. The boy in the box couldn't tell, and probably wasn't thinking straight. Whatever this place was, it wasn't where he'd been
before. All he rememered was being hit over the head with something, and then darkness.
Big, blue eyes opened to the surroundings about him: framed with long, thick curly lashes. A head of blonde ringlets sat upon his head, and his skin was of a milky, almost paper white tone. Quite
lovely, really. Child like, but he was at least nineteen.
The boy's wrists had been pushed into metal cuffs attatched to the top of the box, whilst his ankles had been crossed over and tied down to the ground: keeping him where he was. It was only now
that he realized the breeze drifting in through a cracks in the wall: such being the only light source, and the only real way he could tell he had not slipped into dreamworld after being hit.
There was no breeze, though. That much was obvious by the way the stacked paper piles dotted around what appeared to be the underpart of some building remained perfectly still, untouched by
whatever it was that was making him cold.

It was only then that he took a moment to look down at himself. Well, that explained it. He'd been stripped of any clothing, and probably any dignity he had left. Of course, he'd become a little
distracted in the way he'd been trying to figure out what was going on, only to be snapped out of it by the muffled groans and irratated noises coming from the far end of the room. Many sounds,
actually.

More boxes. More people. Cuffed, naked, and strung up like dollies in a toy box.

Blue eyes widened in utter horror at the scene before him. Not only were there many sounds, but there were also many boxes. This room was like.. some sort of cellar for strung up nudists, though
they didn't seem to have much choice.

Panic rose in his chest. He began to try screaming for help, only to realize some sort of cloth had been shoved inside his mouth, and tied around the back of his head, catching in the blonde
ringlets that framed his face.

Lights flickered, and his attention was snapped to a staircase somewhere in the distance: probably leading to the exit. The light poured in as the door was thrown open, and laughter errupted.
Footsteps stepped down the stairs, and began making their way to the boxes of boys below.

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Comments

I was browsing new writing and this caught my attention despite not being at all what I normally read. I'm glad I clicked it though. It's unique and very nicely written. I loved the imagery and the suspense.